


Makeup

by tarantinoslays



Category: KISS (US Band)
Genre: F/M, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Making Out, Rock Stars, Rock and Roll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 07:49:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17117357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarantinoslays/pseuds/tarantinoslays
Summary: Paul’s girlfriend helps him do his makeup before the show.





	Makeup

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first story I post here in Ao3 and I am confused as hell with tags and formatting, so please excuse me if this looks like crap.

I was sitting on a soft armchair in the dressing room, tapping my fingernails against the leather surface, waiting for Paul to change. He had more than two hours until the start of the show, so I guess he was taking his time just like everyone else. 

Thank God the venue had way too small rooms for all of them to fit in, I thought, trying to stiffen the smile on my face. I could spend more time with Paul while he was getting ready.

A few minutes later, he walked out of the smaller joined room, running his fingers through his tangled hair. Soon after we got together as a couple, I realized that I had the full right to check him out anytime I wanted, without worrying that someone might catch me in the act. I had lost count of how many times I had blushed under Gene's smirking gaze once he saw me stare at his bandmate. These days I only smirked back.

I trailed my eyes down his body, taking in the view. He was wearing a black leotard with stars on the side, a deep cut out in the front in the typical Paul Stanley fashion. The thing I absolutely adored, however, was the black, pinstriped vest that hugged his chest perfectly. Every time I saw him in that costume all I wanted to do was tear it off his body immediately.

Paul draped the leather jacket over the back of the chair, pulling it back to take a seat in front of the dressing table. He opened the small black makeup case that was standing in front of the brightly lit mirror. He grabbed the container of white paint, but didn't have time to open it before he heard me speak.

"Can I do it?" I asked, making him turn around and stare at me.

"What?!"

I sighed, pointing at the box. "Can I do it?" I repeated. "Your makeup."

Paul looked at me, then back to the box on the table. Then a small, apologetic smile appeared on his features.

"Maybe another time," he answered, taking a hold of the box to open it.

"Why?" I asked, standing up and walking behind him, placing my hands on his shoulders and meeting his eyes in the mirror. "You have plenty of time, everyone is ahead of the schedule anyway. After all, if I mess up too much, you'll have time to make it right. What do you say?" I demanded, looking straight into him through the glassy surface. I noticed that he was struggling internally, trying to find the right decision. Or maybe just trying to find the right words to shoo me out of the dressing room. In a few moments, he sighed, handing me the paint.

"Just pull the other chair for you to take a —"

His words were interrupted by the surprised sound that escaped his lips once I sat on his lap, my thighs resting on both sides of his body. I placed a quick kiss on his lips, grabbing the small container.

"You're the best," I declared as I dipped my fingers into it and smeared some all over his cheek. I enjoyed the way my greasy fingers glided over him, spreading the paint over his handsome face.

"Don't forget to leave some blank space where the star is supposed to be," he reminded but was quickly shushed by my forefinger.

"I know what I'm doing, quit your babbling and let me work," I demanded, making him glare at me.

"I'm not babbling," he breathed out, but didn't speak up again, leaving me to even out the layer of white on his face. I was just messing with him about the talking though. If he wouldn't guide me through the process, he might end up looking like a bad version of himself, done with a whiteboard marker.

"Now what?" I asked when I was finished, watching him move his head to look at the mirror behind me to check my work. I might have managed to do it pretty decently, because he reached out and grabbed a small brush and putting it in my hand.

"Now you need to sketch the star," he declared, making me knit my eyebrows.

"Just like that?"

He nodded his head.

"You could let me do it," he suggested, not leaving me much of a choice as he grabbed the brush from my hand, "and I'll let you fix the rest, okay?"

I had to agree on this one, moving away as I watched him clean the white away from where the star should be, then tracing the outline with a black eyebrow pencil. Then he found out a smaller container, this time colored in black and look at me expectantly. I took my previous place, making him grin, and grabbed the brush, dipping it inside the container. I took my time painting the star, making sure it would live up to Paul's perfectionist expectations. In fact, I was so concentrated on doing it right that I hadn't even felt his hands find their way to my hips. I was almost done with it when I felt him squeeze gently, then glide his fingers down my thighs.

Suddenly, my entire body was on high alert. I dared to look away from the black star and into his eyes. His pupils were so blown away with lust, that they seemed as dark as his makeup, the chocolate irises I had fallen in love with barely visible.

I looked away, trying to clean my head and remember what I was doing. I took the liquid eyeliner from the table and used it to line his right eye and the eyebrow. The only thing that was left was the ruby red lipstick. I turned my back on him to take it out of the box, my fingers feeling like jelly as I searched. Once I found it, I looked back at him, only to feel his lips crash against mine. Paul grabbed the lipsticks from my palm and threw it somewhere on the table, not even bothering to see where it landed. I felt his hands cup my cheeks as he pressed my face even closer and my fingers made their way up his back and tangle in his hair.

Paul took a strong hold of my thighs and stood up with me in his arms, sitting me on the edge of the table without taking his lips off mine. His fingers skillfully unbuttoned my shirt, slipping it off my body. I absentmindedly trailed my hands from his hair to his face, tracing his cheekbones with my thumbs. I felt him undo the button of my jeans and I used his shoulders to support myself as I lifted my butt of the table to help him take them off.

Once he threw the piece of clothing somewhere across the room, I lowered my head to trace my mouth down his neck, feeling his breathing pick up even more. The hands that were on my hips flexed involuntarily once I pressed my lips against the spot where his neck met his collarbone, a soft moan escaping his full lips.

I traced my fingers down his chest, ready to unbuckle his belt, when a loud voice from outside the room made me jump in my seat.

"Paul," one of the assistants shrieked, "you have a hour until the start. Are you ready?"

How the hell did time pass so quick?

Paul turned his gaze to the entrance, glaring at the door. "Almost," he screamed back, gently running his thumb over the inside of my naked thigh, making me shiver. "I'll be there soon."

We heard footsteps down the corridor and once the person walked away, he glanced at the mirror, only to stare into the reflection with wide eyes. I turned around to see what had caught his attention and my jaw dropped.

The makeup, or more like whatever was left of it, was completely ruined. The black star didn't even look like one anymore. There were white lines all over his shoulders, his collarbone, his chest, everywhere my hands had touched.

My face didn't look any better, with some luck I could audition for a clown in the circus. My face was flushed and there were smears of white all over my lips and my cheeks, left every time Paul's face had brushed against mine. Not to mention the fact that I was sitting on the desk in my underwear, but that I wasn't complaining about.

"God, this is bad," Paul noted, making me smile, "and I'll have to fix it right now, or I'll be late." He explained, holding his arm for me to help me hop of the table, even though I could do it myself. Always the gentleman.

Once I was on my feet, he pulled me closer by my waist, claiming my mouth once again in a hard, needy kiss that took my breath away, swallowing my moan of disapproval that we couldn't bring this any further. When his lips finally released mine, he pressed our foreheads together, our hot breaths mixing.

"God, you have no idea how much I want to screw everything and take you right now." He whispered, moving a soft strand of hair away from my face and tucking it behind my ear.

"I know." With one last soft kiss, I pulled myself away from him, walking to the bathroom to get the makeup off my face. Next, I focused on finding my clothes around the room and putting them on quickly. He turned to the mirror, inspecting his face to see if there was a way to fix the mess or he had to start from scratch again. I was about to walk out of the dressing room when I heard him speak.

"I'm not done with you yet," he called, turning around with a smirk in his face. He looked almost ridiculous with his makeup all over the place, but there was a hint of pride in my voice when I spoke.

"Oh, I hope so," I shot back, winking at him and closing the door behind my back. I let out a sigh and headed down the corridor, trying to find something to do. The disappointment that I was feeling had me so deep in thought that I didn't even notice Gene coming against me. I was going to pass him by if he hadn't called my name.

"So that's why Paul has been taking so long," he smirked, giving me a knowing look. I looked down, trying to hide the blush on my cheeks.

"I have no idea what are you talking about."

How the hell did he know? Does he smell the sex in the air?

"Your shirt, " he nodded towards me, "the buttons are uneven."

I looked down to my chest, then glaring up at the bassist when I saw that my clothes were perfectly fine. Gene was grinning from ear to ear, so glad that his trick had worked. I showed him the finger, making him snort. Then I strolled down the corridor, my face hot as I could still hear the Demon's laughter behind my back.


End file.
